


Breakfast Time

by helens78



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_snippets, Community: dsc6dsnippets, Crack, Food, Humor, M/M, Podfic Available, alternate universe - anthropomorfic, alternate universe - breakfast food, alternate universe - food, anthropomorfic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-01
Updated: 2011-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In honor of April Fools' Day, welcome to the Breakfast!Verse, in which Fraser is somehow even more emblematic of Canada than he already was as a Mountie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast Time

**Author's Note:**

> **Podfic!** I podficced this one, and you can find it [on my website](http://helensfic.net/podfic/2012/breakfast-time-by-helens78/). :)

Fraser was Canadian; Fraser was _proud_ to be Canadian. There was no doubt in his mind that he was far, far better at his job than any American version of himself, no matter how fine and pure the syrups from Vermont might believe themselves to be.

When he spread himself across Ray Vecchio--slim, traditional, smooth on top, a pancake made with the finest-milled Italian flour--the combination felt exactly right. Oh, certainly Vecchio complained that Fraser tended to get him into sticky situations, but in the end, he had to admit they were made for each other.

* * *

After a journey back home to study the latest tapping techniques, Fraser arrived back at the Chicago IHOP's 27th precinct, more than ready to be reunited with Ray Vecchio. He'd been dreaming of Vecchio's light, fluffy texture throughout the entire shipment; he'd been imagining the way it would feel to slick himself all over Ray, stickiness be damned.

When he saw the batter-based, square-imprinted breakfast food at Ray Vecchio's desk, he reeled back in shock, nearly tipping his container over. That-- _thing_ \--might very well have been created from flour, baking powder, and a bit of salt, but he was certainly no pancake.

Even so, he was apparently supposed to pretend that the waffle was Ray Vecchio. It would never work, he thought stubbornly, keeping every last drop of himself tightly capped inside his container. Waffles were for fruit, for whipped cream; in a pinch, for chicken. Syrup belonged on _pancakes_.

If this ersatz Ray's square-shaped cavities were beginning to look better and better to him by the day, well... he'd never admit it. He already had a Ray, already had a partner. He could wait for Ray Vecchio's return.


End file.
